


The Ties That Bind

by XProphaneX



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Falling In Love, Lost Love, M/M, Prequel, Sex in later chapters, learning to love, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-06 00:16:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11589105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XProphaneX/pseuds/XProphaneX
Summary: Prince Thorin of the Lonley Mountain is wedded to the Ward of the Greenwood to tie their peoples together. Thanks to one King trying to outsmart the other, what might have been a peaceful arrangement becomes sour and friction threatens to drive the couple apart before they even get to the wedding night. Thorin and Fanrell must learn to live as a couple but first that means they have to learn about eachother.





	1. Marriage

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old story that I unfortunately uploaded before I ever had chance to read through it properly and see just how cringe the writing was. If anyone finds this again, please forgive the terrible monster I put up. Now properly edited I hope to finish this story properly as I imagined. This is of course based of the ages that you see in the films, book purists please don't point out that in the books people are younger than Thorin. I mix my media inspiration. <3  
> Comments are always welcome

Iona had seen a lot in her long life. She had seen the white stag gallop threw the tree's of the Greenwood, seen many children grow into the beginnings of wiser men, seen the stars sparkle so close that her long pale fingers could almost reach out and capture one...but she had never yet met anyone like Fanrell for his endless litany of childish complaints about having his hair braided.

  
“Ah! Valar! You're pulling my hair out!” Screeched the young Elf as the maid dutifully tugged the next lock of hair into place and pulled it tight between weaving fingers.

  
“If you do not cease your constant twitching I shall nail you to this chair!” The older elf snapped irritably.  


That seemed to do the trick and by the reflection of the young male's face in the mirror he was too busy weighing up the likelihood of her carrying out her threat to do much twitching. He seemed to decide it wasn't worth the risk and held still with nothing more than a dark mutter.

  
Iona silently continued her assault on the young man's white hair, pulling out silver pins, that had been fashioned to resemble snowflakes, and sliding them into place. In all her years she had never quite met anyone with white hair like the ward of the King. She remembered the day that Thanduil had first delivered him into her care., small and ragged and covered from head to foot in mud, hair nothing more than a dirty black tangle full of twigs and leaves.

  
“Iona...do you need more light?”

  
The older elf looked into the mirror to see Fanrel giving her a strange look and only then realised that her eyes had filled up with the beginnings of tears. She was quick to give one of the stands of hair and particularly sharp tug which in turn produced a yelp and a distraction.

  
“Don't you be worrying about my sight, young man you have greater concerns today, think on them.” She said as she fixed the last of the small braids into their proper places and stepped back. “Now stand up and turn around let me look at you.”

  
The younger elf stood as ordered and looked at her with a lifted eyebrow and arms outstretched. The silver robes of velvet where form fitting at the top decorated down one side with white thread in the pattern of frosted leaves. Loose and flaring at the hips where they reached the floor, the toes of white leather boots only just visible when he moved.

  
“My little Thorn has truly become a flower.” Iona said with a little pride. Moving forward to ajust the knot in the satin wrapped around his waist.

  
“Flowers don't grow in winter.” Fanrell pointed out with a slight smirk in the corner of his mouth.

  
“You will brush your hair every night, back and sides, one hundred strokes, no excuses.” the older elf said sternly taking the young man's chin between thumb and pointer in a strong grip “I do not care what anyone says you will bathe in some fashion at least once a day, mountains are filthy. You will take a brisk walk for your health somewhere in the open air, you will write home at least four times a month or I will descend on you and that mountain and bash your ears until you see stars-”

She was cut off by a hug, the Ward of the Greenwood escaped her grip on his chin and wrapped his arms around the closest thing to a Mother he had ever known and held tightly. So tight it must have made it hard to talk, of course that's what the tightening in her throat much be.

  
“Thank you Iona. For everything. I am going to miss you.” He said softly before standing back and giving her one of his most winning smiles.  


A knock at the door had Iona back to her usual stern self in no time and she hurried over to answer the door. Legolas, young Prince of the Greenwood was standing on the other side and after standing back and allowing him to enter the room the older Elf excused herself quietly to make packing arrangements.  


The blond elf stood there for a moment looking over his adoptive brother slowly. Had Legolas been in a more poetic mood he might had said the young man looked like the Prince of Winter. As he was not in such a mood he instead opted for:

  
“You look like snowdrift.” Legolas said abruptly “A very pretty snowdrift.” he corrected himself.

  
“Never call me 'pretty' ever again.” Fanrell tried his best to hide the laughter and sound truly offended but he was never very good at it when he was alone with the other young elf, Legolas was chuckling too as they walked forward and embrace in a familiar hug.

  
“So...in a few minuets you are going to be a Dwarvish bride.” Legolas commented.

  
“Like hell I am!” Fanrell snorted “I don't have the facial hair for that.” That was certainly true “Have you seen him?”

  
“Your beloved? Oh yes he's in the hall right now, standing there like a stunted granite statue.” The Prince said. His comment was met with silence for a short while.

  
“And?”

  
“And what?” Legolas said with a straight face, he ducked swiftly to avoid a pale hand trying to clip him round the back of the head “Goodness, Fanrell! How very unladylike like of you.” He jumped back out of the way of the fist heading towards him.

  
“You are lucky that Iona hid all my daggers.” Fanrell sniffed. “Now tell me more about him.” He walked over to the bed, robe swishing around him as he did. There was a complicated moment where he tried to work out how he was supposed to sit down in it before he just sighed and sat down, wrinkles be damned

  
“What more is there to say?” Legolas asked shrugging his shoulders as he sat down next to his friend “He's short, broad and hairy, just like every other dwarf.”

  
Fanrell huffed and pulled a face, brushing a little fluff from one of his blankets off his silver sleeve. “You could have had the decency to lie to me about that at least.”

  
“Would you like me to lie to you?” The Prince said, looking at the other with a smirk.

  
A short silence to consider if it would help, then “Yes.”

  
“Alright then.” Legolas cleared his throat and his voice took on a more simpering tone “He's tall, for a dwarf. He has shapely cheekbones, a firm, muscular body and skin as smooth as a flower petal. His complication is that of milk and honey.” Legolas said with a hand to his chest like he was serenading a lover.

  
There was a short pause as that vision hung in the air between them. “I change my mind. You can't lie shit.” Fanrell said with a shake of his head.

  
Before Legolas could retort to that insult on his skills the door opened without a knock and the King of the Greenwood himself, Thanduil, strode inside, striking, water blue gaze settling on his ward and his young son like a waterfall, washing the mirth from the room. Legolas looked to his adoptive brother and put a hand on his shoulder, and with one last smile he stood, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him with a light click.

  
Fanrell stood slowly and brushed himself off letting the weight of the fabric drag the creases out as gravity took it's hold. The silence that stretched was of a child and it's father. Whatever else Thanduil had been to Fanrell he had been his only father figure. Teaching him, steering him, favouring him, to some extent raising him as his own. If anyone commanded his loyalty it was the King.

  
“Iona has outdone herself....you look pleasing, more so, in fact, than I had expected.” Thanduil said, in that slow manner in which he was accustomed to speaking. The elf never rushed his words for anyone. “I might even go as far as saying lordly.” He crossed the room to stand in front of his ward. “Are you ready?”

  
Fanrell nodded slowly but this thoughts where much different. No, he wasn't ready. Was Thranduil telling him to throwing his life away? To turn him into nothing more than a thing to be traded for metals and jewels and footsoldiers? Yes, he was...and Fanrell wasn't fighting it because he knew why. The King was providing for his people.

  


“Then it is time, Fanrell.” Thranduil extended a hand silently, and with a slow exhale Fanrell's hand was laid on top and together they walked to the door.  


                                                                                                                  ~*~

The wedding was small, and not just because half of the party where dwarves. Legolas and a few of the higher elves where present to witness, Iona stood at the back watching silently as the boy she had always considered her son stood before both the King under the Mountain and the King of the Greenwood, facing his soon to be husband, Prince Thorin, son of Thrain.

  
In front of the witnesses of both races they swore that they would take no other lovers, lend each other strength in times of weakness, Share in each others triumphs and failures and love each other to the end of their lives. It was as simple as that, one moment, one promise and two people who had never met were tied together forever, as were the houses they represented.

  
No kisses where exchanged, no affections, only rings, Thorin's ahnd was still as stone as his new husband slipped a broad band of gold with the elvish form the couples names entwined. Fanrell was gifted a more delicate ring made of silver the band thick enough only to hold his name and Thorin's comfortably.

  


There was applause, and though it seemed enthusiastic enough there was strain in the voices and a hesitation in the prosecution of hands from the side of the elves, unlike the said fo the dwarves where there was raucous cheers and the stomping of boots.

  
“To the chamber, Let us sign this treaty now our peoples are joined.” Thror boomed as his iron boots thumped along the ground heading to the meeting room he and the dwarves had been waiting in before the wedding.

  
As was customary between newly-weds Thorin offered his arm to Fanrell, who was apparently taking the bridal roll in this wedding weather he liked it or not. He played along however, laying his slim long fingered hand over the top and lacing his thin digits with the firm, thicker fingers of his husband. Together as stiff as wooden puppets, the two made their way to the meeting.

  
The chamber was already ringing with the voices of the council of both kings. There where two empty seats next to eachother and after pulling one of them out for Fanrell, Thorin took his own seat. The elf sat down slightly more heavily than he probably should have but as far as he was aware his polite and delicate act was over the moment the contract was signed.

  
The snowy haired young elf took the opportunity to discreetly get a better look at his husband. Threw the ceremony he had been concentrating so much on his prompting that he had never really paid much attention to his intended.  


Thorin was actually rather handsome for a dwarf. Yes he still had a lot of facial hair, not something that Fanrell found attractive to be honest, however unlike most of his race, Thorin's beard was short and well groomed. He had nice long dark hair and the most astonishing blue eyes that Fanrell had ever seen. They were like a lake, deep and cool and refreshing. _It could have been a lot worse I suppose..._ he thought to himself calmly.

  
The treaty had been laid out on the large stone table for both parties to look over. Though the main portion of the treaty had already been laid out and agreed to, there was always room for minor improvements. Some small matters here, a few wording errors to be changes here.

The elves who where now re-reading the parchment in order to asses the little parts added by the dwarves where muttering and nodding to eachother. The King on the other hand was silent as his ice blue eyes ran over the words and numbers on display for him, it wasn't until he got right near the bottom of the treaty that anything about him changed.  


A slight widening of the eyes, such a small change in his expression but a thousand warning bells tolled in the gathered elves. Fanrell's gaze swiftly found Thror's face across the table and watched as he smiled a little smugly. He looked far too pleased with himself, something was amiss.

  
“This was not here the last time.” The King of the Greenwood said pointing to the accused sentence with a long pale finger, much like a bug that was due a squashing.

  
“It was added,” The Dwarven King said simply “as insurance of your aid in times of trouble. I noticed a slight wording error in one of the clauses pertaining to it. 'Aid shall be rendered when members of both races share a mutual enemy where both elves and dwarves are in immediate danger from a shared threat.' it is just there,” the dwarfs own thick finger poked at the parchment. “We simply thought it easier to add in something to cover it up. Far easier than sending it back to be reworded, best not to waste a King's valuable time.”

  
The King's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, any soft edges replaced by sharp angles. It seemed that wherever this clause was it something that foiled his very careful wording. The dwarves had not missed a thing it seemed.  


“Fanrell.” He said without breaking his gaze on the other king. “Come here.”

  
The white haired elf stood as commanded and swept, over to his adoptive father in silence. This did not bode well. The Kings finger now lay under the offending clause and at last he turned to lay that ice-fall gaze on his ward.

  
“If you would be so kind...as to read this aloud.” He said slowly, eyes never leaving the younger elf's face. Sharing a half worried glance with his blond haired brother Fanrell cast his eyes on the parchment and started to read, realisation dawning with every syllable.

  
“The bride of Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror shall be escorted by armed guard when outside of the great halls of the Kingdom of Erebor. Extended trips of a day or more must be granted by permission of the King under the Mountain, for the brides own safety.”

  
Thranduil had to sign. He couldn't back out of the agreement or risk an incident by openly proclaiming why the clause was out of the question. The Elf King had played with fire and for once he had been burned. In trying to ensure that without direct danger to the elves he need not dispatch his army to defend the dwarves he had sealed Fanrell's prison doors. Dwarves where meticulous about contracts after all. How could have thought to trick them?

  
He looked up and straight back into that gaze of frigid cold. All he could read in those pools of frozen water was goodbye. He was still going to sign and Fanrell was going to pay the price. He nodded curtly, stiff as an oak branch and turned his head again, unable to meet the gaze of his brother, he saw the King under the Mountain with a proud look on his face. It made the white haired elf want to claw at that look, to rip it off his face with his bare hands.

  


The dwarf next to Thror seemed less proud of the victory, his grey two pronged beard swaying slightly as he shook his head a little. Threw the turmoil in in his own mind, the violent thoughts of revenge, Fanrell managed to make it back to his seat in silence as though nothing had changed. He folded his hands in his lap, eyes looking directly ahead, he sat stiff as stone.

  


The rest of the signing was soon over, he never moved, never stirred from his silent sentential next to his husband. When the dwarves all rose and headed to the door, Thorin once again offered his hand to his new partner but this time it was coldly refused. The silver clad elf stood under his own effort.

  


“Thank you for the offer of assistance, my Lord, but I am quite capable. I shall see you at the caravan when we ride home.” And with that he strode from the room.

                                                                                                                  ~*~

Sitting on his pony by the gate Thorin tapped his fingers on the saddle in boredom. The rest of his posture was just as lordly as it had been at the wedding but this one little show of irritation was enough to remind Balin that the Prince was still young and not so stoic as he seemed.

  
“Is something wrong, Laddie?” The older dwarf asked leaning in a little, to keep their conversation private from the milling members of the dwarvish company

  
“No. Where is that elf?” Thorin muttered turning in his saddle to look around and see if his husband was in the crowd.

  
“Thorin lad, you might want to go a little easy on the boy, after all he's loosing a lot more than just his freedom with this marriage.” Balin said with a meaningful look to the younger dwarf.

 

This match was hard for both the men involved, so young and with so little preparation for a life of partnership, especially when they where strangers. Balin had advised against this way of cementing their alliance, but the King had been adamant that he wanted assurances more than ink scratches on a bit of parchment.

  
Thorin nodded a little but still seemed displeased by the whole thing. The older dwarf gave a little sigh, seeing that there was still work to be done here and tried again to wriggle out the problem currently plaguing his Prince.

  
“Is there something else that is on your mind?”

  
The question was not blocked as before but rather diverted “Where is he? How long can it take to get ready to go he is holing everyone up.”  
  
It was at that moment a dapple grey horse was brought from the back of the train to stand towering next to Thorin's pony. Both dwarfs sat up in their respective saddles and a much less grandly dressed Fanrell, now in greens and browns of a trackers uniform, walked up next to the beast and gracefully pulled himself into the saddle.

Turning his head slightly he looked down at his husband with a sombre face, his eyes looked slightly puffy and pink around the edges to Balin but soon they where turned away from the dwarves as though they where nothing but empty space and the moved off to linger on a few in the crowd and the royal family that where ready to send them on their way.

  
Balin sighed as he watched Thorin bite his tongue only because an outburst would bring shame on his father and grandfather. Balin couldn't blame the young dwarf for his anger, that elvish winter gaze had held nothing but barley concealed contempt for those it landed on. This marriage was going to be like a storm and more than just the unhappy couple where going to have to weather it's gales.  


                                                                                                                  ~*~

The room was a mess. There was water on the floor and the silver pitcher that sat by the bed was flung halfway across the room, a chest was flung open and the contents now nothing more than a mess of rumpled and screwed up fabric. The silver pins where haphazardly laying on the dressing table, The polished mirror was smashed, the reflective surface distorting the features of Iona as she stood in the middle of the aftermath of rage.

  


She had to take a few moments to compose herself before she started to clean up the devastation left in the Wards wake. She took the ripped wedding clothes and silently dumped them by the door in an unruly pile. She had heard too late the account of what had happened in the council chamber and in a last hope of seeing her son she had made her way to the gate. She was too late. The caravan already vanishing into the distance.

 


	2. Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road everyone has time to think on their problems. Some people, like Balin have to think about other peoples problems as well. Fractures are already starting to show between the newlyweds and the poor old dwarf has to try his best to find some solid ground to work from.

The road to Erebor was hardly one of the longest journeys Fanrell had undertaken, but it just went to prove how slow time passed when you were feeling miserable. His horse seemed to delight in taking slow and measured steps that seemed to take him no further forward at all, the road seemed to eternally stretch before him no matter how long the caravan to Erebor seemed to travelled along it. Fanrell blamed the dwarves, it was all because of their short legs.

  
He normally enjoyed riding threw his beloved forest, taking in the wonder of nature and the blessings that the forest granted those who cared for it and kept it safe. The sun played threw the leaves, casting dappled light on the leaf littered floor of oranges and yellows and reds. The sound of the streams and rivers as they gurgled in their banks, knotted and laced with the greedy roots of the nearby tree's who relished the plentiful water.  


He had spent hours on patrols with Legolas attempting to mimic the calls of birds that flitted threw the trees and animals that rustled around in the leaf littler, granted the only one that had ever had much talent for had been the cawing of crows and ravens. The ugly sound had never failed to have his blonde companion offering him water and asking him if they should call a healer.

  
Things were going to be very different from now on. Mountains where just as much a part of the natural world as the trees that he had grown up in, but that was not why he was going to hate it. Elves liked the open air, the natural sounds of the forest called to them like a lullaby, what could Fanrell expect to hear in his new rocky home? The hammers of smiths making their wares, the sound of rocks scraping against rocks as the miners looked for more commodities to pull from the earth and sell to the highest bidder. A structure of natural greatness hollowed out and stripped bare for profit.

  
A raucous cry from one of the dwarves broke him from his thoughts he looked around to see one of the guards throwing a small sack of coins to another with a hearty laugh. He wasn't even outside the forest yet and he already it felt like he was a million miles away. He cast another look at the dwarves beside him and urged his horse forward a little ways so that he was in front of them, he didn't need to be reminded that he was married by being glued to the man's side all the time.

                                                                                                             ~*~

Fanrell's mood was not very well hidden from the party around him, not that Balin thought the young elf was even trying to hide his displeasure. The older dwarf had all but forced Thorin to change paces with him dwarf had been afraid that one more irritated look from Fanrell might well have incited the Prince of the Lonely Mountain to violence. The resentment between the two was abundantly clear and if something was not done to ease the growing tension then their wedding night might well end in a brawl.

  
Sat on his pony Balin considered some way to get the two newly weds to at least be civil to each other as the beautiful tree lined roads of the Greenwood fell away to the rolling fields that lay beyond it. The elf, a little ways ahead of them, gave a slow realise of breath as his eyes looked over the horizon.  


It was a beautiful view, especially at this time of day when the sun was just starting to dip behind the towering bulk of the Lonely Mountain. The light almost seemed to shatter off the rocky surface and send shards cascade down onto the valleys and hills. Balin gave a little smile and urged his lazy pony onwards. There was still a bit of light in the day yet before they would stop and make camp for the night, a little time yet to lay some kind of plan to keep the peace.

  
The dwarf watched the young elf's back as he considered all the problems this royal match might bring to bare fruit. One of which was already ripening before his eyes, the very problem he had told the king would happen the moment the had thought up this little spiteful trap. He had tried his best but even now he could hear that booming voice calling across time

  
_“That pointy eared excuse for a King thinks that he can scheme his way out of rendering aid to our people?” Thror had boomed in his great annoyance when he had read over the parchment. “I think not! If he wishes to play by these rules then there shall reciprocations on his own head. There shall always be an elf in Erebor!” The quill had been snatched up and the King had carefully started wording the fix to the loophole on a spare bit of parchment while Balin had tried his best to reason with the man._

  
_“My King might I suggest that we simply return it and ask that the wording be changed to make it clearer, must we really play this game with the elves and sink to their level?” The King hadn't even looked up just continued to write “Think of your Grandson's bride.”_

  
_“What of him?” Thror had asked waving his hand and correcting a few of the phrases in his response “He has nothing to do with this other than being an extra bond of alliance. He's gaining a strong husband, a good home, food and a station that he is accustomed to, I see no reason for the boy to complain.”_

  
_Balin had tried again and had leaned on the table close to the King and tried again to point out a glaringly obvious flaw in the spiteful little trickery._

_  
“He will swiftly grow to resent not only this house but the people in it, including the strong husband he is getting on his wedding day. It will cause a discord and sour his relationship with Prince Thorin. They will come to hate each other in the end and the marriage will break apart. Hardly a stable bond between peoples when the married parties cannot stand the sight of each other”_

  
The King of course had not listened, he had added the new clause with the backing of the rest of his council and Balin had been forced to stand back and watch as the ghastly business had been concluded. That was what it was about after all, business, unfortunate for the two lives had been dragged into the midst of it.

                                                                                                           ~*~

Thorin didn't even move his head when he heard the sound escape from his bride at the beautiful scenery was laid out before them. Even the thought of his “bride” had him bristle internally and fight back a snort. All the elf had done since they had left the city was throw dagger loaded looks at him. Looks that suggested he was made of something the man had recently scraped off the bottom of his boots.

  
Thorin had to admit that when he had first seen his intended he had been a little awe struck. Elves were beautiful creatures there was no doubting it, though of course Dwarves had their own aesthetics and beauty ideals, but it was hard to deny that the star lovers were a race all others found lovely to behold. Fair skinned, beautiful creatures that drifted around the city, with all that inherent grace that made the dwarves feel like great beasts in their stumpy metal boots.  


Fanrell's silver decked body had been a sight to behold, as it was lead down the isle towards him. However the moment the wedding had finished and the contract had been signed he had watched that graceful starchild turn colder and darker as the moments passed by until that look he had cast in Thorin's direction, when he had climbed onto his horse.

  
Thorin had not expected to be married off to the Ward of the Greenwood. It was not that he was not attracted to males, he knew that men and women had a different appeal and he had spent more than a few night in the arms of some male dwarves that had caught his eye. However he had always thought he would be settled down with a nice dwarvish woman of good standing, as his father had done. Have a family, children of his own to be next in line to the throne...not be stuck to the side of a snotty, arrogant slender irritation that did nothing but hold contempt for him.

  
Thorin hadn't given much thought to what married life to an elf would be like. In fact until a few days before the wedding itself he had pushed it from his mind, mostly because he thought that both his father and grandfather would give up on the idea. He had never even met his intended, only been told by the council that he was considered fair and graceful and would be a good match.  


He had started wondering what the elven Ward had been told of him and weather the elf was hoping the same as he was. When it had become apparent that the wedding was going ahead questions of what would be expected of him had plagued his night's driving off sleep to buzz around him like fireflies. Would they sleep in separate rooms or even in different areas of Erebor all together? Would they only be expected to even see eachother at functions and meetings with the elves? What would the Ward be doing while he was attending to his own duties?

  
He looked ahead to Fanrell's back and sighed. Well he better get some of his immediate questions cleared up before they made camp. He urged his pony a little closer to the older dwarf at his side.

  
“Balin?” he caught the older dwarf's attention by giving his shoulder a shake, he wouldn’t be overly surprised if the other dwarf was asleep on his horse as he seemed to have the ability of sleeping anywhere down to an art and the dwarf hadn't moved in over five minuets.

  
“Aye, lad?” the advisor turned his head to look at the prince shaken from his thoughts.  


“Now that we are married...where is the elf to sleep?” He asked. It sounded like such a stupid question, but then again he hadn't been told much about how arranged marriages between men worked, it was hardly like they where going to have children.  


“Where all other husbands sleep, Thorin.” Balin said tactfully.  


Well that took care of any of his other questions in regards to married life then. He assumed that he could always request separate rooms from his grandfather or at least separate beds. Seeing as he had no interest in doing anything with the elf at all that included a bed.

  
“What else do you know about him?” He nodded in the direction of the Elf's back.

  
Balin gave a sigh and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He might be very close to the Prince and could get away without the bowing and scraping and title calling but there was still high regard and respect for his position.“And why are you asking me?”

  
“Who else could I ask? You are on my Grandfathers council.” Thorin said with his own exasperated sigh.

  
Balin lost the battle and his eyes rolled. The Prince was an intelligent young dwarf, but it seemed that occasionally he, like his grandfather, could missed the glaringly obvious.

  
“How about asking him?” he hooked a thumb in the direction of the elf in question. “You are married, Thorin you will actually have to talk to each other when the occasion calls for it.”

  
Thorin was about to say something when there was a call from the front of the caravan. Seems that they were to camp here for the night. He gave Balin a look that meant to tell him they would talk about this later but the older dwarf simply brushed it off and pointed meaningfully at Fanrell's back as the elf dismounted with the lightest of landings. How on earth had he been married off to a man that irritated him by literally doing anything at all?!

                                                                                                           ~*~

Even though Fanrell was the Ward of the Greenwood, and therefore considered among royalty, he and his adoptive brother had always been close with the Silvan elves, and on patrol they always did their fair share of setting up the camp. Thorin had completely ignored him and headed over to his family after dismounting, so the elf decided to find something useful to do.

  
Fanrell wandered around the camp on his own, nobody really seemed to take much notice of him, a nod now and then but mostly the dwarves got on with their work. Feeling like he was not pulling any weight at all he took to offering to help with things or just doing jobs he seen that needed to be done that nobody seemed to have spotted.

  
However when he asked he was polity thanked but told that it was all being handled, nothing to concern himself with, which wouldn't have been so bad if each and every time he started a job he thought people wouldn't notice him doing a dwarf would hurry over and take it off him and thank the elf for alerting them to it.  


After the fifth time this had occurred the elf stood and suppressed a sigh, bowed his head respectfully to the dwarf that had taken over the task and then moved away to stand awkwardly against a large rock, watching the dwarves hurrying about their tasks and feeling somewhat useless.

  
A disgruntled whinny to his left made him turn his head. His horse was standing like a white soldier among the ponies the dwarves rode, they were penned in a makeshift corral, wicker fencing had been hammered into the soft ground so they didn't wander off in the middle of the night.  


Fanrell hated to see the things stood there bored out of there minds just as he was. Come to think of it...they were so very out of the way. The Elf looked around to see if there was anyone watching him, and found he was being more or less ignored, just as before, out of the way, not getting under anyone's feet, oh the irony. He gave a sly smile and started casually making his way over to the penned creatures, nobody batted and eyelid. Perfect.

  
His ears had picked up the sound of falling water not to far away, he had no doubt that the pony's would fair far better after having a nice cool drink and a graze on the lush water-fed grass than they would standing around packed together like fish in a barrel. Reaching up he ran his hand down the nose of the dapple horse his brother had bought him a year past, then he opened the latch on the gate and let it swing open.  


The ponies as was their natural instinct the ponies simply stayed together in a loose heard untill Fanrell took the reigns of his horse and started quietly leading them away toward the stream hidden by the rocks around their camp, the herding instinct causing them to follow quietly after each other, one by one disappearing behind the rocks.  


One of the dwarves nearest to the penned ponies looked up when he thought he thought he heard a few whinnies and almost yelled out when he saw the last of their beasts swishing tails vanishing away behind the rocks, but a hand on his shoulder silenced him, causing him to simply turn around to come face to face with a smiling Balin.

  
“I wouldn't cause a fuss, Lad.” the Dwarf said patting the dwarf on the back, “They are in good hands, best to just get on with your job.”

                                                                                                           ~*~

The stream was beautiful, it started at a small waterfall cascading down a few taller rocks where the ground had dropped dramatically through some natural erosion. Fanrell counted his elvish sight among his most loved of blessings, from his vantage point on one of the boulders around the plunge pool he could watch the river meandering it's way threw banks surrounded by lush green grass. His leather boots beside him and his pants rolled up to his knees, pale feet dangling in the cold, soothing water.

  
Fanrell's horse, Ellond, and his pony companions were enjoying a little freedom of their own, drinking from the stream, grazing on the greenery around the river banks. Some were even playing together running here and there chasing each other and acting like wild things once more. If they wandered a little too far Ellond would run off to heard them back to the rest of the group, it made Fanrell chuckle a little to see the great horse fret like a worried parent when the little one's strayed.

  
If Fanrell closed his eyes he could just about fool himself that he was home, or on patrol with his friends. His brother would be tending the fire, Eruestan and Lathron would be savaging for food, mushrooms and wild berries and Limdur would be hunting rabbits for stew. He could almost taste it now if he though about it hard enough.

  
“Hello there, excuse me, Prince Fanrell.”

  
The call shattered the fragile dream and the elf turned in his seat to see the dwarf with the long two pronged beard standing in the grass behind him, his hands neatly behind his back and a friendly smile on his face. When he had managed to sneak up on him?

  
“I'm not a Prince, Sir.” Fanrell said politely as he pulled his feet from the cold, soothing pool and swung around to let them dry on the rock where the dying rays of the sun warmed them. “Are you the one tasked with taking care of the ponies?” Was he being robbed of yet another job he had managed to content himself with?

  
“No, no...you're doing a fine job, and begging your pardon, but you are married to Prince Thorin so in my reckoning that also makes you a Prince.” The Dwarf chuckled to himself and walked a little closer, “Might I take a seat? My bones are not at strong as my mind I am afraid.”

  
“Of course.” Fanrell scooted over a little to give the Dwarf some more room to plant himself down. The smaller male climbing up the stone like a mountain goat...and considering the beard Fanrell had to fight back a smile at how fitting the animal comparison was.

  
“Thank you.” Once he was settled down he gave the Prince a seated bow “Balin, son of Fundin, at your service.”

  
“I am sure this is redundant seeing as you already know my name but in honour of the ceremony of the thing-” He gave a seated bow in return “Fanrell, Ward of the Greenwood, at yours.”

  
“I was wondering if we might talk.” Balin said with a little chuckle, he rather liked the young elf, he had some spirit.

  
“We are talking now, Master Balin,” Fanrell pointed out.

  
“That we are, Laddie, that we are.” Balin gave Fanrell a look that made the elf feel that he was about to get a lecture of some sort. “It's rather apparent that you're not very happy and I wanted to make sure everything is aright in that wee head of yourn.” His question was met with silence “I know this treaty has been harsh to you, making you leave your home was inevitable but the hindrances that have been put on your visits must have been a hard blow.”

  
Fanrell nodded curtly, he had understood that he would have to live in Erebor and though it had been a hard thought to wrap his head around he had reasoned with himself that he would be free to go home any time he needed to see the people he loved, attended feasts and parties. That was the major comfort that he had derived from the situation.

  
“I will not say that you shouldn't be hurt or angered, that is your right and nobody can ask you to just accept it.” the dwarf continued “I only ask of you one thing. Do not hold your husband responsible.” the elf turned his head to look at the smaller male with a raised eyebrow but the dwarf continued on “Thorin knew nothing of the Kings plan's for you. If he had I am sure that he might have had something to say about it”

  
“I have not said that I blame him for anything.” Fanrell said defensively.

  
“You have not needed to use your words, Prince Fanrell, your actions and your looks have been more than enough to crack his dwarvish pride.” Balin said sternly when the elf became defensive, “You may not love him, he may not be all that you dreamed or hoped for but he is just as much a victim of this marriage as you are.”  


He tried to soften his words, he didn't mean to pass blame on either of them but nor did feel that Fanrell's behaviour warranted defence. This comment too was met with silence, the elf was looking over the field were the ponies played like children, but the set of his pale lips told the dwarf he had hit a chored somewhere, hopefully it would be reverberating in the young man's mind, working it's magic.

  
“I will come and collect you when the food is ready.” Balin said patting the leather clad knee nearest to him and picking himself up off the rock and heading away back to the camp, happy in the knowledge that he might have planted a seed that would keep the problems at bay.

                                                                                                           ~*~

When Thorin came out of his grandfathers tent for the meal he was met with an unusual sight, the elf was busy herding all the ponies, one at a time, back to the corral they had been stationed in. He seemed to be counting them as they appeared from behind a large rock. He rose a single eyebrow but before he could walk over and say anything about it, his father and grandfather came out of the grand tent and started pushing him over to the fire where there was a great amount of meat set on trays and even more roasting over the fire.

  
Throin took a seat and noticed that there was a pillow next to him, he presumed for his bride to take a seat on. Wonderful, a whole meal spent in the company of someone that couldn't stop throwing dagger looks at him.

  
“Where is our Elvish bride?” boomed Thror. It was something about being King, Thorin had always assumed, that had changed his grandfather's voice from a normal volume to one that now echoed off near mountains and caused small avalanches. “Fanrell, where are you lad?”

  
Throin was about to tell his grandfather where he had last seen the slender irritant when said elf appeared in the crowd and made his graceful way over to Thorin's side.

 

“I am here, my King, pardon my lateness.” He then proceeded to remove the cushion and throw it to Balin, who caught it with and chuckle “For your poor bones, Master Balin.” he folded himself down onto the ground beside Thorin and offered him a small smile, barley a twitch of his lips “Forgive me, my husband.”

  
The Dwarf Prince was rather taken by surprise, the elf had certainly changed his tune in the few hours it had taken to set up the camp. He didn't get a chance to dwell on it however as his Grandfather was talking and when that voice spoke you had little choice but to listen.

  
“Not at all, not at all. No cushion? Goodness I thought elves too skinny to have the natural padding.” the King chuckled in good sport. “Well then let the meal begin!”

  
“A little louder grandfather I don't think the elves back in the greenwood heard you clearly.” Thorin muttered under his breath sticking a finger in his ear and wiggling it a bit to try and stop the ringing.

  
“Oh I don't know...” came a smooth and quiet voice from his side “that dwarf over there didn't seem to hear him” Fanrell was leaning towards him slightly and pointing to a guard that looked to have fallen asleep leaning on his spear.  
Was that an actually a real smile on the elf's face? Gold under the mountain it was.

It actually made a smile pull at the edges of Thorin's lips as well despite his best efforts The dwarf tucked into the trays of meat,bread and cheese that were being passed around. When he had passed the third, tray laden with some kind of meat, to Fanrell he caught and odd look on the elf's face.

  
“Everything alright?” He felt a bite of irritation coming back, what was the food not good enough for him or something?

  
Fanrell passed the tray on without taking anything from it with a smile to the dwarf on his other side him and then looked around to his husband and after a second shook his head.

“No, nothing wrong...I was just wondering if there was anything...green,” he had so far only taken some salted pork, a chicken breast and a bread roll. “I am not used to a heavily meat diet.” He said breaking open the roll and putting a little bit into his mouth.

  
Throin actually had to think about that, he had noticed at his short stay in the Greenwood there had been an awful lot of vegetable’s on their tables along with the meat and the bread and the cheese. In fact over half of the food had seemed to be plant material.

  
“It doesn't travel very well.” He explained as he started pulling apart a chicken breast, taking strips off the ribs. “Mostly we carry or hunt meat for journeys but I promise there are vegetables in the mountain.”

  
“I suppose I am just used to travelling in the forest.” Fanrell said as he pulled some of the fluffy centre of the roll out of the crusty shell and wrapped a thin slice of the salted pork around it before popping it into his mouth. “There are normally things like mushrooms and the like growing everywhere if you know what to pick and wild herbs, like garlic and basil.”  


The rest of the meal passed under a relatively good mood. Fanrell soon found out that if you wanted to eat when you lived with dwarves that you had to get your food as fast as possible or you didn't get any at all. This was not just because the dwarves themselves seemed to eat a great deal in a very short space of time but because when there was singing and dancing and general merriment and of course beer, food seemed to change from sustenance into projectile weapon.  


More than once he had found himself ducking to avoid an errant chicken or turkey legbone and at one point was in danger of being covered in hard boiled egg had Thorin not grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged his head down. If nothing else it was an experience.

  
After the food was all but gone a brawl broke out among some of the guards and soon bags of money were being thrown around as bets were taken on who would be left standing at the end of it all. At an Elvish party this would have been considered a travesty, but here even the King and the royal family were tossing sums of money around joining in on the betting and later Fanrell was surprised to learn that one of the combatants was Thorin's cousin, Dain. He was the victor, after a few breaks for Ale mid match. His opponents left laying around, groaning and nursing bruised foreheads.

  
It seemed to the elf that dwarves were much freer in their merriment and the way in which they celebrated than the elves were. Elves were far more refined and controlled in their displays, their music more melody and beauty than the catchy tunes that the dwarves came out with. Elvish dance was more about skill and choreography, unlike the way the dwarves flung themselves about. Fanrell watched it all with interest, drawing the conclusion that although it was different it didn't making it a lower kind of enjoyment, he even found his foot tapping along to some of the catchier tunes.

  
It was late that night when the King decreed that it was time for the watch to begin and for everyone else to go to bed. Both Thorin and Fanrell seemed to stiffen up as the same thought had struck them...Oh no...it's time. Thorin was the first to unfreeze himself from his spot, he offered a hand to Fanrell who after a brief hesitation took it, pulling himself up from his cross legged positions on the ground.

  
Together the newly-weds made their way, under the watchful eyes of the assembled dwarves, to their tent. Thorin was a perfect gentleman and pulled back the flap for his bride. Fanrell slipped inside in a less than graceful manner, in his nervousness he forgot to duck creating an awkward scene when his face almost met the side of the tent, he had to step back and bend in order to get inside.

  
The tent was beautifully decorated, there were lamps dotted around, resting on anything solid so as to illuminate the canvas space with soft yellow light. Fanrell noticed the bed and carefully avoided it as he stepped over the soft plump mattress covered in pillows and fur throws. When he heard Thorin enter the tent and the flap fall over the door he felt that awkwardness again rising.

  
In order to avoid actually having to talk to the dwarf he had married for just a few more minuets, he moved over to his trunk. Kneeling in front of it he shifted one of the candle lamps from off the lid and set is one the floor, opening the lacquered wooden box to fish out some looser clothing. The silence in the tent was thick and heavy with everything the was not being said. He pulled out his hairbrush as well as the bedclothes before closing the box.

  
Thorin was standing stiffly by the door, watching him with those lake blue eyes, he seemed to be struggling with saying something. He, like Fanrell, wished to avoid associating with the bed at all costs, including looking at it. Maybe he was under the impression that if he didn't look at it, it didn't exists. He cleared his throat and put his hands behind his back.

  
“Look I have...I...well we.... we don't have to...” Watching Thorin stutter and try to faultily snatch at words was surprisingly sweet to the elf, and also rather calming on his nerves, it showed that at least when it came to this they were both in the same boat. Fanrell used his clothing chest as a seat and started to upbraided his hair, pulling it over one shoulder to brush it, looking expectantly at the dwarf. “I can sleep on the floor.” The dwarf finished clearing his throat again.

  
“You don't have to do that.” Fanrell said passing the brush threw his currently less than silky strands “Elves do not sleep as dwarves and men do, it is more akin to mediation we can even do it while walking.” Was that a hit of nervousness in his voice? “I can sit here all night, it isn't a problem.”

  
That seemed to stump the dwarf a little as he gave Fanrell the strangest look, he assumed that it was not all that strange elves did still need to rest their bodies which was why they did have beds I which to 'sleep' when they needed to.

  
“That would be uncomfortable surely, I will take the floor-”

  
“I am not a woman, Thorin.” Fanrell interrupted with a bite of irritation in his voice, though when he registered it, his look turned a little apologetic. “We shall both stay on the bed. Just because two people share a space to sleep dose not automatically mean that they will share in...nocturnal rituals.” he couldn't bring himself to say sex.

  
The dwarf looked as though he was about to argue but seemed to decide against it after all and deflated somewhat. “Agreed.”

  
The elf continued brushing his hair slowly, counting strokes in his head while the silence ballooned anew between them. He hated the feel of an awkward silence, he was generally the first to break them when he was at home, the air just filling with all that dead sound put his teeth on edge.  


Thorin, was still hanging around the door like he didn't know where to put himself. He was never normally so hesitant but then again this was a position he had never found himself in before. This was the first time thy had been alone together since they had married, and it was awkward.

  
It seemed that although his brain was unwilling to act, his body was ready to make it's needs known, a long yawn pulled at his mouth and for the first time he seeme to register how tired he actually was. That bed was suddenly looking very inviting. Thorin resoned that since they both agreed they where taking the bed he better get ready to sleep.

He was not ashamed of his body and seeing as he and Fanrell would be living in the same room, there would come a time when they would have to see each other unclothed so they might as well start as they meant to go on. Getting himself out of his heavy top clothing Thorin was left in just his pants.

  
When he turned around after throwing his clothing over the nearest chest he was greeted by the site of a tall pale slender elf's back wearing nothing at all. He would have liked to think himself a gentleman but he couldn't help looking him up and down. He noticed something shiny on the Elf's hip and running past the waistband of his leggings...

  
“Turn back around Thorin.” Fanrell's calm voiced snapped him out of his assessment.

  
“It's not that impressive a view, you shouldn't flatter yourself,” Thorin said but he turned around anyway.

  
Fanrell folded his arms and looked round once he pulled the loose shirt over his svelte chest. “Then you wouldn’t have been staring.”

  
Thorin chuckled and crossed his arms over his barrelled chest turning back and looking him up and down. “That's what you ware to bed?.” a short pause “My sister wares something similar.”

  
There was silence for a moment and then “You're an ass.” but there was a hint of amusement in there all the same and the elf climbed into the bed and started trying to settle into a good position in which to rest himself, placing his hands flat on his belly so as to measure his breathing.  


“You won't be able to ware that in the Mountain, you will boil.” Thorin said with a smirk as he climbed into the bed and started pulling the furs around himself, only up to his hips for now while he found a completable position. Normally he would have the whole double bed to himself.  


“they are quite thin.” Fanrell said as he started to measure his breathing in and out. He didn't bother with the covers and simply lay on top of them.

 

“The mountain is always hot a night with the feminises below, the less you ware the more comfortable you will be. Everyone I know sleeps naked.”  


the elf opened his eyes and sat up a little on hos elbows. “Naked?”

 

“Yes, naked. You should be thankful I am wearing my trousers.” Throin looked as though he was talking about the weather. He had his eyes closed a smirk playing on his lips.  


“Yes I suppose I should thank the starlight that you have seen fit to protect me from the horrors that lurk beneath.” He used one of his elbows to poke Thorin in the side lightly.  


There was some shared chuckles between them before the sound of silence fell again, this time it was less awkward and Fanrell relized that the dwarfs breathing had evened out, he must have been exhausted as the shorter man had fallen into a deep sleep.  


Fanrell turned his head to looked at the sleeping Dwarf. He watched that thick chest rise and fall slowly for a few moments. He was still angry, still upset, he was trapped here but Balin's words had indeed echoed deeply inside his mind. “but he is as much a victim of this marriage as you are...”

  
“Good night Thorin...”

 

 


	3. Team Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day after the night before and Thorin is finding that not fighting with his husband means that their trip is more enjoyable. When they reach the city of Dale however the cracks start to show again...but it seems that lessons have been learned and advice has been taken at last.

The next morning Thorin woke with a groan and rolled over, trying to hide his face from the light that was pouring in threw the canvas of the tent. He was momentarily confused as to why being able to roll over in his own bed gave him the impression that something was missing before it clicked. Shouldn't he be laying on a body right now?

  
His eyes opened and he raised his head from the pillow and looked around the tent for his bride...no not bride, husband. He really should get out of the habit of referring to Fanrell as something so feminine. The elf himself was nowhere to be seen, his riding clothes, that had been left on the lid of his trunk where gone too.

  
Pulling himself from under the heavy furs, which he had somehow mamaged to wrap and tangled around himself in his sleep, he moved to get dressed himself. He had slept late judging by the complaints of his growling stomach. As he pulled on his shirt his mind wandered to the elf again, wondering if he had driven Fanrell from the bed with his constant movement or if he was just early riser? He hoped it was the latter.

  
Outside the tent he found the camp bustling around him. Guards were starting to pack up and load everything into the carts, there were shouts and orders being throne around and Thorin spotted his father and grandfather in the middle of it all at a makeshift table with food in front of them enjoying a later breakfast. When his Grandfather saw him, he waved him over enthusiastically.

  
Throin settled himself on one of the stools and started pulling meat and bread from the trays in front of him while his father leaned over and winked. “So, how was your wedding night?” the tattooed dwarf asked as he pulled another few slices of ham towards himself and started munching.

  
“We slept.” Throin said shortly.

  
“You slept?” Thror said raising an eyebrow and putting down the bread roll he had been buttering “You didn't consummate the marriage?” His brushy eyebrows seemed to have risen so high that they had become part of his hairline.

  
“The marriage is still legally binding weather I bed the elf or not is it not, Grandfather?” He asked before biting into a slice of beef rather more violently than was necessary. He didn't really care what the answer was, he was not having sex with the elf.  
  


“Of course it is,” Thror said, he seemed to be a little disappointed that Throin would suggest that he had not taken this into account. “but I thought you would at least have a go! I know he's not very broad and he's missing a lot of hair and he's too tall by half but he is pretty!”

  
Thorin had to bite his tongue, it did not do to shout at the King under the Mountain even if you were his Grandson. Instead he put some more ham in his mouth and started chewing it vigorously. He didn't see the need for all these questions. Even if he and Fanrell had slept with eachother he was hardly going to have such conversations with his father and grandfather.

  
“Father I am sure in time that Thorin and Fanrell will be become closer.” Thrain said as he started stripping a chicken leg. “They have only known each other for a night after all, and I am sure the elf was as nervous as a maid.”

  
Yes it seemed that Fanrell was destined to be treated like a lady for the rest of his life, but then again in the eyes of the dwarves he was nothing more than a boy. No matter how many years he had lived, men proved themselves as such and the elf had yet to do so. The Dwarves had always seen the elven race as a little womanly in general, they were all thin and willowy, no matter what the gender they all seemed to ware the same style of garment. Dwarves had a hard time telling them apart, which might have had more to do with prejudice and generalisation than any hard fact.

  
“Well I should hope so! I'm sure my grandson was a most impressive sight, seeing a real male specimen must have been quite the shock for the boy.”

  
_Oh no, not this_... Thorin though desperately. No man wants to hear his family talk about him in such a way, or start talking about his sex life or lack there of.

  
In a desperate attempt to try and get away from the conversation at hand Thorin turned his head to watch the camp being taken apart. The canvas of his tent was being dropped, rolled and packed, he watched as Fanrell's chest was being lifted onto the back of one of the carts and it suddenly dawned on him that he still hadn't seen him yet. Thorin's eyes swept over his people a few times looking for white hair or a tall form but there was nothing but dwarves before him.

  
“Where is the elf anyway?” He asked looking back round.

  
“He is by the waterfall just behind that outcrop of rocks, your majesty.” came the cheery tones of Balin from the head of the table. When had he arrived? Thorin didn't remember seeing him walk up to them. “He took the Ponies there for some water and to stretch their legs, elves had a way with animals and I think he likes to have something to do.”

  
“So that’s where he disappeared off to.” Thrain said with a chuckle. “I wondered what he was doing with our ponies.”

  
“We should reach the mountain in good time, maybe we can even stop at Dale,you did say that you needed to speak to Lord Girion about some of the supplies.”Balin suggested looking meaningfully at Thorin with the slighted nod of his head before returning his gaze to the King.

  
As Balin continued to distract his grandfather and father with matters of sate the young dwarf Prince made his escape taking a bread roll and a chicken breast with him and heading to the outcrop of rocks that Balin had pointed out. They would need the ponies back soon, Thorin reasoned, Someone should get as far away from that last conversation as possible and tell Fanrell.

  
It didn't take the dwarf long to find the stream, he just followed the sound of happy ponies and the thud of hooves onto the ground. As he wandered in the direction of the sound he finished his breakfast, casting the chicken bones to the side as he rounding the last outcrop of standing rocks.

  
Fanrell was sitting on his rock again but this time he was passing a comb threw this white hair as crystal drops of water dripped from the snow tips. He must have taken a bath while he was out here. Thorin thought he might surprise the elf but those clear blue orbs were on him already, it seemed the only dwarf capable of sneaking up on an elf was Balin

He ambled over and pulled himself up the rock to sit next to the elf uninvited and offered him the bread roll, which the elf took after a moment and started pulling apart. He scooped out some of the fluffy inside and started chewing slowly as his long hair was left to drip down his back.

  
“They asked you about last night, didn't they?” Fanrell said finally.

  
“How did...” Thorin started to ask

  
“Because they missed their chance to ask me.” Fanrell said with a chuckle as he bit into the crust of the bread with a satisfying crunch  


“They wanted me to be specific.” Thorin huffed a little. “What sort of question is that to ask your own Grandson?”

 

“I suppose it depends on just how close to your Grandson you happen to be. So what did you tell him?” For an Elf Fanrell seemed to polish off the bread very quickly.  


“I told him what we did, slept.” Thorin said  


“Well that was a wasted opertunity. You could have made up anything.”

  
Thorin just shook his head and smirked a little at the idea.

                                                                                                         ~*~

It actually took them another day and a half's travel before the caravan train got to the City of Dale. Since their first night together things had become less standoffish between Fanrell and Thorin, if no less prone to occasional little arguments but there was, thankfully, an absence of hateful looks thrown between them. Fanrell rode contentedly by Thorin's side in the train and even if it was in mostly silence.

  
The countryside was monotonous if very beautiful, but when you are travelling with a company of dwarves there is always something entertaining not too far in the future. Fanrell had spent several hours on one occasion, while Thorin was riding with his father, listening in on a particularly loud conversation between Dain and a few of their guards.  


It consisted mainly of how he had head butted several large, very dangerous animal into submission in his life and how good each of them had tasted on a spit roast afterwards. It was a lesson in dwarvish exaggeration Fanrell was sure, because unless there had been something to jump off, he doubted very much that a Dwarf could manage to reach a stag's head, never mind summon the force to headbutt it to death.

  
As the Lonely Mountain drew closer the company had followed closer and closer to the River Running that flowed threw Dale. They needed to use the bridges and barges to haul everything across in record time. While the company on horseback crossed the bridge, the carts, which were too wide, had to cross the water by barge, the poor little ponies were none too happy about standing on a raft while the deep water bubbled and gurgled beneath them.

  
Those that had crossed by the bridge carried on up towards the great walls of the city while the carts continued on to Erebor. As his horse climbed the steep road, Fanrell saw more and more of the tall building's rising in tiers highter and higher, sprawled over the peek of rock on which the City had been built.  


The people of Dale had always lived in the shadow of the Lonely Mountain, and though Fanrell had drunk their wine for years he had never visited the place itself but had thought it must be a drab grey place without much light or colour. He was happy to discover that he was wrong.  


All the buildings and towers were built of the same warm yellow stone, each one topped with orange tiled roofs, brightly coloured flags fluttered and danced in the wind that played around the walls from the mountain and swept threw the streets. Animals made of coloured paper soured threw the air on strings and all within the protective arms of the high city walls, with a guard tower at each corner.

  
The elf was amazed by the grandeur, he noted that the guards up in the towers closest to them were peering down at the dwarves and their lone elf companion as they made their way to the gate in the wall. There were guards there too, in fur-rimmed helms with a spike sticking out of the top, the elf made a mental note to ask someone in Dale what exactly the spike was for.

  
The guard's bowed as The King under the Mountain and his companions rode past the huge oakwood gates rolling back to allow them threw. The streets where full of people and laughter and life itself, there were dwarves here too, walking threw the street's stopping every so often to talk to the citizens of the city, Fanrell had to stop his horse several times when children with wooden swords ran out and started fencing with their friends, oblivious to the fact that they had almost been squashed.

  
Progress was slow but the elf didn't care. There was always something new to see, people or activities, men and women both human and dwarf selling items from baskets, trays, even things from their pockets. A young dwarf woman in a beautiful elaborate dress walked along beside them for a moment and held out a flower to the elf with a smile. “For you.” She insisted, waving any thought of payment and moving back off into the crowd. Fanrell was slightly enchanted and put the flower behind his ear.  


The procession stopped when they reached a large building and Thror dismounted his pony. “I must speak to the Lord. Balin, Thrain you will come with me.” he gave Fanrell a smile “We shall be some time yet. Have a look around.”

Fanrell didn't wait another second and dismounted in an elegant jump from the saddle, he had spent far too long feeling like he was the wrong height, now he was surrounded by tall people again and he felt refreshed by it. He started to head off into the crowed but was hailed from behind.

  
“Wait! You don't know where your going.” Thorin had dismounted and was handing the reigns of his poney over to one of the guards. “I will come with you, last thing we need is to spend hours scouting the entire City looking for you.”

  
“Then you might want to hurry up.” Fanrell said with a smirk and he turned around and headed off, caught up in the following river of people, refusing to wait for the dwarf. They were heading up one of the winding cobble streets, Fanrell was mostly just following the other people, if everyone was walking in this direction then surely there must be something interesting at the top. His blue eyes were bright with almost childish curiosity as he looked this way and that, taking in the faces of the people, the building's even the pots of flowers and little bushes and shrubs.  


Thorin was struggling to get to the elf, asking nicely for the people in the crowd to part didn't have such wonderful results, he was either ignored or not heard, in the end he just forced his way threw until he caught up with the striding elf, who's long legs carried him further faster while his lithe frame helped him slip threw the small gaps between people like a fish threw the current.

  
“Fanrell! Will you just stop running everywhere and leaving me behind?” He said angrily grabing the other by the hand and holding on tightly.

  
“I don't know, maybe if you asked me nicely instead of barking at me like a dog then I might be more inclined to listen to you.” The elf pointed out as he stopped a sharp look on his face. The people of Dale seemed to flow round him, as the Running river did when a rock stood in it's path.

  
Thorin looked affronted, however he realised that having a shouting match with the elf in the middle of a busy street might draw unwanted attention. The insult he had been about to hurl at his husband died on his lips, replaced instead by a low growl of frustration. Why did this elf always pick fights in the most constricting places?

  
“Please, will you stay where I can see you?” He said slowly threw slightly gritted teeth after taking a breath to calm himself down a little. He let go of the Elf's hand and started walking back up the hills again. This was by no means the end of this conversation, the moment that they where no longer in the public eye he was going to have his say.

  
Fanrell seemed happier now that Thorin had said _please_ and started up the hill again, at a slow stroll. He stayed at Thorin's side so that they walked together along with the crowd of people heading ever upwards. The Elf didn't seem to register the silence that thrived between them, probably because the sounds of other people going about the nice, normal lives filled it with chatter and laughter and the shouting of wares.

  
“Is it always like this?” Fanrell asked as he passed a woman selling red roses from a basket.

  
“Every day.” Throin said curtly.

  
“Humans and Dwarves are a lot louder than Elves...” Fanrell said, still looking around “We don't really shout our wares at people as they pass, we just wait for a customer to come and buy what it is they need.”

  
“Mhm.” didn't the elf realise that he was irritated at him? Was it not overtly obvious that Thorin was mad and not really taking to him? There was silence for a few minuets, finally the elf must have taken the not so subtle hint. It was rather peaceful without the constant twittering and the dwarf strolled pleasantly with his hands behind his back...the elf really was very quiet now...

  
Thorin turned to look and see if the elf was offended in some way only to discover he was no longer by his side and he had been walking beside a tall thin human woman instead. The dwarf growled with frustration and turned around on the spot to try and pick out white hair in the crowd and he did, Fanrell was standing in front of a vendor, smiling and giving the young lady a bow of thanks.

  
The dwarf started fighting his way back down stream to get to the elf, contemplating strangulation, but didn't have to for the long, as Fanrell started walking towards him. When the elf was by his side, Thorin was about to start yelling at him, public be damned when a slender hand was held up in a calming gesture

“Before you start, I am sorry that I wandered off when I said I would stay where you could see me.” He pulled the dwarf closer to the buildings beside the road by the hand and out of the direct path of all the people. “This is for you.” He held out his other hand.

  
There were two sticks with red apple’s stuck firmly on the end, each covered with a sticky, sugary sticky coating. Fanrell took one for himself and held the other one out to Thorin with a little smile on his pale lips. Thorin looked at the proffered treat and then took it. He didn't quite get why Fanrell would have bought him something after he had been ignoring him or barking at him. Was this how Elf's dealt with arguments? The anger that had been burning just a moment ago seemed to have been put out by the unexpected peace offering.

  
“Thank you.” He said and looked at it for a moment. Fanrell didn't seem to dwell on it too much and took hold of the Dwarf Princes's free hand and started back out into the street. The shorter male followed and they made their way over the crest of the hill they had been climbing and into the main market of the City hand in hand.

  
There were stall's set up all around the large open square selling everything that could be thought of and a few things that even the imagination would have missed. Silks and cottons in many bright colours and complicated patterns, there was food on every other stall, the aroma’s of baked bread and salted meat mixing with that of the fresh cut flowers, perfumed waters, huge bags of exotic spices and sticks of smoking incense.

  
In the middle of the plaza came the sound of laughing children, it drew the elf's eyes and he saw the reason for the childish glee. Young children were sat on carved wooden animal's which bobbed up and down as adults pulled them round and round on ropes.

  
“This is...amazing.” Fanrell said with wide eyes, looking more like a child than ever, unable to decide where he wanted to look first. Thorin had seen it all before of course, he had been on that carousel when he had been a small boy and it seemed that Fanrell had never seen anything of it's like this before.

  
Thorin smiled a little at him and took another bite of the toffee apple in his hand. “Go on then I will catch up to you.” he said with apple crammed into the side of his mouth. Fanrell was gone within seconds and Thorin gained another toffee apple. The white haired elf was now standing in front of one of the silk seller's who was doing her best to try and make a sale to him.

  
Sitting on a free bench Thorin finished his toffee apple and Fanrell's, because he was hungry and there wasn't much of it left anyway. There was a large bucket beside him for peoples rubbish and he bumped the cores and the sticks into it before heading over to the elf.  


Fanrell was still at the silk merchant, now though he was draped in a deep purple silk with golden embroidery. Thorin decided that he should probably go and rescue the pretty creature, if elves didn't shout their wares then Thorin was sure that the elf had no idea what aggressive sales were or how to get out of one.

  
“....looks splendid on you, my dear.” The woman was telling Fanrell as she carefully pulled his loose braided hair from inside the cloth to lay against it. “A coat made of this would have all your friends green with envy.”

  
“They would if he had any friends.” Thorin cut in, standing next to the elf, who appeared to be a little shocked at the sales tactics. “How much is it?”

  
“Prince Thorin, an honour that you would visit my humble stall.” The woman dropped a curtsy like a professional. Most of the stall owners and indeed most of the city knew who Thorin was on sight “The price is very reasonable, my lord. three gold per yard.”

  
That was pretty reasonable considering the colour and the gold thread. Fanrell didn't seem to think so because his eyes were wider than ever and he looked like he might interrupt, but Thorin as he dug out his coin purse and started counting out gold into the woman's hand cutting off any comment he might have made.

  
“Have five yards sent to Erebor.” He said unwrapping Fanrell and nodding to the woman before steering his husband away from the stall.

  
“You didn't have to buy me that!” Fanrell said as soon as they were out of earshot “What did you buy me that for?”

  
“It looked good on you.” Thorin said with a shrug as he wandered over to a stall selling flowers and gave them a cursory glance. Dwarves were not that flippant when it came to spending their money, only parting with it if the price was fair and they had a use for what they were buying. Thorin knew that his new husband had fine clothing, much finer than what he had on now but it was all very...elvish.

  
They walked around together, stopping at stalls and looking over the amazing creations that were on display before them, some of the stall owners were Dwarves that had come to sell items made inside the mountain. Fanrell asked questions every now and then and Thorin would answer to the best of his knowledge. A couple of the City guards walked past them and reminded Fanrell of a question he wanted to ask

  
“Do you know what the spikes on the top of the guards helms are for? At first I thought it might just be for decoration, because it's not like it's in the most strategic of places to put a spare offensive weapon, but I find it a strange decoration if so.” Fanrell mused.

  
What on earth went on in that elf's head? The Dwarf Prince thought“I have absolutely no idea what they are really for, but I know what me and my friends used them for when we were younger.” There was a touch of a smile on the dwarf's face.

  
“And what was that?” Fanrell asked with his eyebrow raised.

  
“It was a common game to try stick fruit on them before running off as fast as possible into the crowd. Apples were generally the winning fruit, oranges had too much juice, used to explode all over the place when they landed.”  
Thorin smirked

  
Fanrell felt a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. “That's positively beastly, you must have been a little monster when you were younger”

  
“Oh? And I suppose that you were a perfect child?” Throin snorted “Sitting there like a snowflake on display. Terrified of getting grubby.” He chuckled.  


Fanrell pushed him a little with a laugh at the very thought, this was rather pleasant, just talking. Balin had been right, talking with Fanrell was far better than listening to other people speak of him.

  
“I think you will find that the hard part of raising me was keeping away from activities that got me 'grubby', Master Dwarf. Iona used to pinch my ears every time I came back to my room covered in grass stains and dust.” He smiled a little at his own memory. “but tormenting poor guards just doing their job because of their silly hats, I am totally innocent of.”

“I did wonder why your ears seemed so much bigger than the rest of the elves in the Greenwood.” Thorin said, making a show of inspecting them, chuckling in good humour as the elf on reflex lifted his hands to touch them, catching himself just in time and giving the dwarf a playful glare.

  
They were strolling gently towards another stall, selling bread in a myriad of strange shapes, when they were hailed from behind by a familiar dwarvish voice.  


“Oi, Thorin! It's time te be moving on! Tell your elf to get 'is peachy behind inte action! I'm so bored I just nutted a pony to wake myself up!” Dain was waving at them over the crest of the hill.

  
The elf and the dwarf looked at each other, sharing an expression of shared amusement.

  
“Do you think he has?” Fenrell asked, genuinely not sure weather the other dwarf was making a joke.  


“I wouldn't put it past him...” Thorin said sighing and taking hold of the Elf's hand, so they didn't get separated of course. “Come on, before he tries it on your horse.”

 


End file.
